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I listened intently, then asked, “Mrs. Anastas, did Elaine kn
ow a lot of people in the city?”
“She had two roommates, and she had made a lot of friends at her internship,” she said.
“How did she meet her roommates?”
“They were friends from college. Nice girls. One of them is in grad school, the other one interns for the Yankees.”
The mention of the Yankees made me think of the bobbleheads I’d seen. I wondered if those had belonged to the other girl rather than Elaine.
I nodded, then followed with the crucial question. “Did she mention anyone she didn’t get along with? A coworker, or maybe a man she met on a bad date?”
“No, nothing like that. She would have told me.”
I didn’t believe her. I doubted that she and Elaine discussed difficult subjects.
I looked at the weary, grieving woman and realized that she had treated her daughter almost exactly the same way our family was treating Brian. We didn’t broach any problems with him for fear of scaring him away.
Maybe I needed to rethink how I was dealing with my oldest son.
Chapter 23
Even with Brett Hollis doing his best impersonation of a NASCAR driver on our return, we weren’t back in the office until the afternoon, and I felt the loss of every working hour. We were at a point in the investigation where we were eliminating possibilities rather than chasing leads. That was never a great position to be in.
I still hadn’t gotten any FBI information from Emily Parker about potentially similar cases around the country, though I did request and receive crime-scene photos and police reports on the two murders in San Francisco. It was a reach to think we might link these, but I was game to try.
I looked up when I heard the booming voice of Victor Kuehne, a precinct detective who’d been in and out of our office for the last couple of weeks, working with one of our homicide detectives on a case unrelated to ours. Kuehne was known for his gregarious personality and off-color jokes. He was both loved and hated throughout the department.
He was also known for picking on detectives. And enjoying it. I thought he was a bully. Now he turned on Hollis.
“Hollis, man, are you hiding a nose job from us? That bandage seems like it’s been on your face a long time.”
I opened my mouth to explain that it had been only a couple of days but decided to let Hollis speak for himself.
He didn’t, just smiled and shook his head.
Kuehne wasn’t deterred. “Didn’t you graduate from NYU before you hit the Police Academy? What are you doing, bucking to make chief before you’ve even gotten your hands dirty?”
Hollis still didn’t take the bait.
“Lay off, Kuehne,” I said. “He’s working on a real case. If you’re not careful, we’ll get you assigned to it and stick you with a thousand crank leads.”
Bullies are rarely interested in dealing with someone who stands up to them. Kuehne was no exception. He didn’t say another word as he turned toward the desk he’d been using.
A moment later, Hollis stepped over to my desk and sat in an empty chair. He said, “I appreciate your concern, but I can handle myself. You stepping to my defense just convinces that moron he was right about me. He already thinks I’m not tough enough to be a cop. Now he thinks I’m not even tough enough to defend myself.”
He wasn’t wrong. All I could do was nod my head and say, “Understood.”
What I should have said was that I’d never seen a detective make a tougher run at a fleeing suspect than Hollis had with Billy Van Fleet, but the moment had passed.
A few minutes later, Kuehne strolled by our desks. He considered Hollis for a moment, then finally said, “So tell me, is the nose job just to cover the fact that you got a small pecker?”
Hollis didn’t bother looking up from his report. He said in an easy tone, “Your mom didn’t mind it last night.”
I didn’t even try to hide my grin.
Hollis was right. Kuehne walked away, satisfied with Hollis’s proper burn.
